


A Westeros Fairytale

by Netgirl_y2k



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin
Genre: Alternate History, Everybody Lives, F/F, Gen, Story within a Story
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-07-16
Updated: 2014-07-16
Packaged: 2018-02-09 03:33:59
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,260
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1967421
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Netgirl_y2k/pseuds/Netgirl_y2k
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Four wolves go to a tourney; or, how the Knight of the Laughing Tree crowned the Sun of Dorne the Queen of Love and Beauty.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Westeros Fairytale

Bran landed on his back with Meera Reed's frog spear at his throat. He grinned, and yielded cheerfully enough. 

Bran could usually best Meera if he could drop on her from a height - from a branch, or an overhang in Winterfell's walls. His brother Robb said that once Bran was a famous knight he would have to be sure to fight all his battles in heavily wooded areas. 

Anyway, Bran didn't mind losing to a girl. He had grown up fighting Arya, and she'd won just as often as he had. 

Arya was gone now; she was squiring for Dacey Mormont on Bear Island.

Bran missed her more than he had expected to. That was, when he wasn't cross that their mother and father had decided that Arya was old enough to be a squire in service, but that Bran would have to wait another year.

But then Lord Howland Reed had visited his old friend Lord Eddard Stark, accompanied by his children. Jojen and Meera had stayed on at Winterfell after their father returned to Greywater Watch. Old Nan had told him stories about young boys who had boon companions. That was how Bran felt: that Jojen and Meera were his boon companions.

Speaking of Jojen. "If you two are finished," he said dryly, "I've brought lunch."

Bran's stomach rumbled. He blushed, hoping that Meera hadn't heard, and jumped to his feet. "Let's eat in the godswood."

Jojen had brought bread, and cheese, and small, tart apples, and Bran tore into the repast with a will. He was a growing boy, after all. 

Jojen carefully peeled an apple with a small knife, and said, "Mayhap my sister could tell us a story while we eat?"

He was soon to be a squire, and Bran worried that he was too old for stories. But he still loved them, especially when Meera Reed told them. "I like the ones about knights," he offered. 

"How about the story of four wolves who go to a tourney?" suggested Meera.

"Bran probably knows that one," said Jojen.

"I don't mind," said Bran. "Old Nan once told me that the story changes with the teller."

Meera began, "One day four wolves left their home to attend a great tourney--"

"These were two legged wolves," said Jojen, "the four legged variety would have no business at a tourney."

"Thank you, little brother," said Meera. "There was the wild wolf, who led the others; the quiet wolf, by his brother's side; the she-wolf, who yearned for freedom; and the young pup, who was just pleased to have been allowed to accompany his older siblings for once. 

Theirs was a merry journey, for they had been long apart. The quiet wolf had long lived in another den in the high mountains, and the wild wolf and the she-wolf were both soon to be married.

The castle where the tourney was to be held was not the grandest in the land, but it was certainly the largest--"

"Harrenhal," said Bran, who had studied the great castles of Westeros with Maester Luwin.

"The wolves were among the last to arrive. Pennants of every colour snapped in the wind, and banners bore the sigils of Houses great and small. The storm lord was there, the rose lord, and the lord the crossing. The lord of griffins, and a red snake from the desert. The great lion of the rock had quarrelled with the king and stayed away, but the lion cub was there, and the white swords had come to welcome him into their brotherhood."

"Don't forget the king," Jojen reminded her.

"Of course not. The king was there too, with his son the dragon prince. The prince was as yet unwed and beautiful--"

" _Beautiful_?" Bran asked skeptically. 

"Men can be beautiful," said Jojen.

"Aye, they can," said Meera. "But if you'd prefer, the prince was tall and well-formed, and deadly with a lance.

The king had long been searching for a bride for his son, and many fair maidens had come to the tourney hoping to catch the eye of father or son. The daughter of the castle reigned as queen of love and beauty; but there was also a lioness of the rock, a daughter of the river or two, a maid with laughing purple eyes, and the sun of dorne. The dornish maid was considered the least likely to be chosen; for although she was kind and lovely, she was frail and often ill."

"Did you forget the wolf maid, sister?" Jojen asked with a sly grin.

"Never; but she was promised to another, remember?"

Bran frowned. "This sounds like a Sansa story." Sansa lived in Highgarden now, and was soon to marry Willas Tyrell. Bran hoped that after the wedding he might be asked to stay on to squire for Sansa's new good-brother, the Knight of Flowers. "Were there many knights there?"

"There were to be three days of jousting, a seven sided melee, archery and axe throwing competitions; knights came from all over the realm to compete."

"Were any of the wolves jousters?" Bran asked.

"The wild wolf and the quiet wolf were more swordsmen than jousters, and the pup was learning still. The she-wolf could joust, but her father didn't approve of it."

"Not that she let that stop her," Jojen added.

"She sounds like Arya," said Bran.

"The wild wolf and the quiet wolf took the pup to see the lists being set up, while the she-wolf walked alone between tents and pavilions. Her betrothed was attending the tourney also, and she wanted to put off the moment where she would have to meet him again."

"Was he cruel?" Bran asked. The wolf maid in the story had three brothers; Bran had a notion that if a maid was engaged to a cruel man then her brother should challenge and slay that man. Bran would probably never have to; Sansa liked Willas Tyrell very much, and Arya could win her own duels.

Meera cocked her head thoughtfully. "He could be cruel; but he was also the lord of all storms, fair of face, and a famed warrior; and he loved the wolf maid very much." 

"But she didn't love him?"

Jojen turned his solemn moss-green gaze on Bran. "You can love someone with all your being, Bran, that does not mean that they owe you love in return."

Bran felt that he was on shaky ground here, and he was glad when Meera picked up the thread of the story.

"The she-wolf came across three squires attacking a crannogman for sport. She might have raised the alarm, or run for help; instead she picked up a tourney sword from outside a tent and laid about her, crying, 'That's my father's man you're kicking!'"

"So she _was_ like Arya!" Bran cried triumphantly. 

"Mayhap," said Meera, with a small smile, "a little. The squires had not expected to come face to face with a snarling she-wolf brandishing a wooden sword, and they fled. The wolf maid aided the little crannogman; binding his cuts with clean linen, and cursing his attackers as cowards and bullies." 

"The she-wolf hated nothing so much as bullies," Jojen added. 

"The wolf maid introduced the crannogman to her brothers, and the wolves insisted that he join them for the welcome feast up at the great castle. After all, the crannogman was high born, and as much their man as any moose, bear, or merman. 

The wild wolf was engaged to the elder of the river maidens, but his attention kept drifting to the maid with the purple eyes and he shared several dances with her. It fell to the quiet wolf to dance with his brother's intended. The storm lord was engaged in a wine cup war, and the she-wolf was free of his attentions. She sat with the other ladies, but she was a wolf, not a lioness or a fish, and she could not pretend otherwise. The young pup realised that there was no one but the crannogman to see how much wine he consumed, and he drank his fill, as pups will.

This was a great feast, so there were jugglers, sword swallowers, and fire breathers. A black brother rose and spoke about honour and service to the realm; only the she-wolf and the pup were really listening. Then the dragon prince rose with his harp; he was a famed musician, and he sang a song so sweet and sad that it made tears come to the wolf maid's eyes."

Bran's face screwed up in distaste, and Jojen said, "There's no shame in weeping at beauty."

Meera cleared her throat. "The she-wolf was sitting next to the sun of dorne, who offered her a handkerchief to wipe the tears from her eyes. It was white silk with sunbursts embroidered in thread of gold.

'It was beautiful, was it not?'

The wolf maid agreed, but admitted that the song was not the only reason she wept. 'I am disposed to sadness,' she said, for her wedding was to be soon, and her unhappy match was preying on her mind.

The sun's daughter looked long at the wolf maid and said, 'You do not seem to me to be somebody who was made for unhappiness.'

The wolf maid was called away by her pup brother. The crannogman had recognised his three tormentors, and discovered which knights they served. The pup and the she-wolf offered to find him a horse and armor if he wished to avenge himself upon them."

"Did he?" Bran asked. "Want revenge, I mean?"

"Crannogmen may be smaller than most," said Meera, smiling her brother, "but we have our pride--"

Jojen met his sister's eyes. "--and many of us are warriors in our own fashion."

"But we are not knights; we sit boats more often than horses. Yes, the crannogman wished to have his vengeance, but he feared he would only embarrass himself and his people. He excused himself and went out into the cool night air to pray to the Old Gods for guidance. It was there that the she-wolf and the pup found him, and they had an idea to put to him."

"What was the idea?" Bran asked.

"Patience. The next morning the crannogman, the she-wolf, and the pup all failed to appear to watch the jousting. Late in the day a mystery knight appeared in the lists; slight of build, wearing mismatched armor, and carrying a shield painted with a white weirwood tree with a laughing red face."

"The Knight of the Laughing Tree!" said Bran. 

"Just so," said Jojen. 

"He was the little crannogman," said Bran decisively. "He prayed to the Gods and they made him a knight for the day. Or... I suppose it might have been the pup; Sansa once told me that Barristan the Bold rode as a mystery knight when he was only ten."

"Are you sure it wasn't the wolf maid?" Jojen asked.

"Girls can't joust," said Bran automatically. He braced himself for the thump between the shoulder blades that would have come had Arya not been safely out of earshot on Bear Island. "I mean," he added, with a shy look at Meera, "I'm sure they can, I've just never heard of any famous woman jousters."

"The knight of the laughing tree, whoever he or she was," said Meera, "challenged the masters of the three bullying squires. They were not popular or especially skilled competitors, and the smallfolk cheered as they were unhorsed one by one. When the defeated knights tried to ransom back their horses and arms, the knight of the laughing tree told them, in a theatrical, booming voice, that it would be enough for them to teach their squires honour. 

The crannogman, the she-wolf, and the pup all reappeared at the feast that night. The wild wolf had little thought for anything but his purple-eyed maiden, and though the quiet wolf regarded them all with suspicion he was wise enough not to ask questions to which he did not truly wish to know the answer. 

The storm lord was winning a second wine cup war, and the quiet wolf was speaking urgently to the river maiden his brother had spurned and insulted. The she-wolf sought out the sun of dorne. 

She told the wolf maid that she too must soon leave her home. She had lived in her mother's palace well past the age that most maidens wed as she was her brother's heir. But he had married and become a father, and the sun's daughter was expected to find a husband; ideally a royal one.

She said that she had a terrible premonition that if she married the dragon prince something terrible would befall her."

"Did she have the green dreams?" Bran asked. "Like you, Jojen."

Jojen tilted his head, and thought for a long moment. "I have never heard of a child of the rhoynar having green dreams. But there is dragon blood in the House of sun and spear, so mayhap..."

"The she-wolf turned the conversation to happier topics. She asked the sun of dorne if she had guessed the identity of the knight of the laughing tree. 

With a sly smile, she replied that she had not seen the mystery knight close enough to guess his identity. But she had heard that the king had named the knight of the laughing tree an enemy, and threatened to send him to the Wall; the storm lord and the dragon prince had been tasked with unmasking him--"

"But," interrupted Bran, "if the wolf maid was truly the Knight of the Laughing Tree, then the king couldn't send her to the Wall."

"The king's wits were beginning to addle," said Jojen. "And they tell the tragedy of Danny Flint at court just as they do at Winterfell and Greywater Watch."

"Oh," said Bran.

"It was true," said Meera, "that it seemed folly for the mystery knight to take the field again. 

The she-wolf asked the sun's daughter, 'Do you think a terrible fate will befall the knight if he rides again?'

'Mayhap,' she replied, rising to retire for the evening. 'Or mayhap a terrible fate will be averted.'

The next day the knight of the laughing tree again entered the lists. The knight wore the same mismatched armor, and carried the same weirwood shield. The only difference was that tied around the knight's lance was a lady's favour; a white silk handkerchief, embroidered with thread of gold which glinted in the sun."

"And the knight of the laughing tree won the tournament!" said Bran with a laugh. He knew how stories worked; the little hero always prevailed.

"The Old Gods and the New smiled on the knight. The lion cub didn't compete, and only two of the white swords rode in the jousting; the first fell to his brother, the second to the dragon prince. The red snake broke three lances against the knight of the laughing tree, but the mystery knight sat a horse well and could not be unseated. 

The knight of the laughing tree faced the dragon prince in the final joust. The prince was a skilled jouster, famed throughout the realm, and the knight would surely have fallen to him. But the dragon prince refused to fight, and forfeited to the mystery knight.

The king was wild with fury. But in front of the bellowing crowd who had taken the knight of the laughing tree into their hearts, and who were cheering their dragon prince just as loudly, he could do nothing.

The knight of the laughing tree crowned the sun of dorne the queen of love and beauty with a crown of roses. The lioness of the rock scowled, and the younger river maiden gasped in dismay. The frail, sickly, oft-overlooked dornishwoman donned her crown with a glint in her eyes and a laugh upon her lips."

"What happened then?" Bran asked. 

"What always happens at the end of tournaments," said Meera. "There was a great feast... although there were a few notable absences. 

The purple-eyed maiden opened her companion's chamber door to find the she-wolf, still in her mystery knight's armor but without her helm. She laughed and slipped away to find her wild wolf, leaving the she-wolf alone with the sun of dorne. Her crown of roses was dangling from her fingertips. 

'If you'd been caught...' she said. 

'But I wasn't.' 

The she-wolf went down on one knee before the sun's daughter. She said that she was leaving that very night; she could not marry the storm lord, nor could she knock him from his horse with her lance, so she would have to flee. She wished the sun of dorne to come with her, for she had felt drawn to the dornishwoman since the first night's feast, she said. 

The sun's daughter slipped to her knees, and clasped the wolf maid's hands. She wished to go more than anything, she said, but to where; they could not go north or south.

'East, West; there are lands across the sea.'

When she smiled all men could see why she was known as the sun of dorne. 'Yes,' she said, 'let us go across the sea.'

There was to be a great masque to mark the close of the tourney, and along with the mystery knight's disappearance, nobody marked the departure of the wolf maid and the sun's daughter until they had already boarded a ship."

Bran was skeptical. "Truly, no-one noticed? Even by boat it's more than a day's journey from Harrenhal to the coast."

"Well, the red snake and the wolf pup knew." Meera grinned at Jojen and added, "Thus proving that there are some uses for little brothers after all."

Jojen ignored her. "The crannogman helped too."

"Aye, he did. And some say that the dragon prince must have known too, and that's why he refused to fight the wolf maid in her guise as a mystery knight."

"And," said Bran, who knew how stories ended, "the she-wolf and her Dornishwoman lived happily ever after."

"Well," began Meera, "they lived. For a time they lived in the titan's city, where the she-wolf learned to duel with a blade like a needle; and for a time they lived on the isles of summer, where the climate suited the dornishwoman's constitution; and always they missed the homes of their childhoods. But, aye, they lived." 

It had been a good story, Bran supposed, and Meera told it well. "I liked the wolf maid," he said, "and the jousting. But there were no real battles, and nobody died."

"Plenty of people died," Jojen corrected him.

"The wild wolf crossed the mad king and died," said Meera. "The storm lord crossed swords with the red snake and died. The lion cub killed the king and ran away with the lioness."

"There's never just _one_ story," said Jojen. 

Bran was embarrassed at the thought of asking, but he planned to tell this story to Sansa before her wedding, and Sansa would ask: "Who did the dragon prince marry? If the whole point of having the tournament had been to find him a wife; did he ever find one?"

"No, and he never had children. But he had a young brother and sister who he raised as though they were his own after their parents died. He brought them up telling them stories of the old dragons of legend, and he came to believe that together they were..."

"Go on!" urged Bran. 

Meera smiled. "Another story for another day, I think."


End file.
